Stockholm Syndrome *One Direction Fanfic*

Chapter 5

It seemed as though I only just closed my eyes for a minute but when I opended them, the end credits were streaming down the telivision screen. I streched my arms and realized that the spot mext to me was unoccupied. I looked around. Silence. I rubbed the back of my neck. I got up and walked through the kitchen. I felt alone. . . But an eerie alone... And I didn't like it.

"Harry?" I called down the hall. No answer. I shivered and hugged myself. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around me. Where did he go? Maybe he left. A spark of hope lit inside me but was extinguished by the dreading feeling of silence.

I looked down the hallway.  Nothing. Just as I was about to turn away, I heard a low, menacing growl. Before I could react, I black figure jumped out of the dark hallway. I screamed and fell to my knees covering my head.

The front door burst opened, but I was too scared to look up. Someone picked me up by my elbows and sat me on the couch. "Annabeth?"

I opened my eyes and looked around cautiously. Harry shook my shoulders again. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head and motioned towards the hallway. Suddenly, something leapt onto the couch beside me making me jump nearly through the ceiling. I was expecting some dark cloaked thing like you would see off of Harry Potter, but instead I was met by a wet nose on lots of sloppy kisses.

"Pippin, down!" Harry scolded, pulling the dog off me.

I stared at him. "A. . . dog?"

Harry laughed. "Pip, Annabeth. Annabeth, Pip."

I gazed down at the mangled thing. He was as black as night with a little white spot on one of his floppy ears. His fur was tangled and he had a thin scar on his nose. Definitely not a pure bred you'd find in Malibu. "Found him a few years ago," Harry said. "Dogfight."

I suddenly felt dizzy, like I needed to sit down.

"Are you feeling okay? You look pale," Harry brought my attention back to him.

"What? Yeah I'm fi-"

Harry placed a cold hand on my forehead. "You're burning up,"

I remembered last night when he mocked me doing this exact thing. I swatted his hand away. "Don't touch me," I mumbled.

"Sorry," he said looking hurt. "I was just concerned-"

"Concerned?!" I yelled at him. "You're the reason I'm here!"

He looked stricken, as if I'd just slapped him. "Shouldn't you be thanking me?" He questioned.

My face grew hot. "Are you crazy?"

"I should be asking you the same thing. I'm the reason you're alive!" Harry shouted, waving his hands in the air. He stood up and backed away from me.

"You kidnapped me from my own house! You followed me around like some stalker, then you and your friend grabbed me from behind and knocked me out! And you think I'm the crazy one?"

Harry looked surprised. "What are you talking about?"

"Last night-" Harry cut me off.

"Annabeth," he said solemnly, making me stop. "I found you on  my porch three days ago knocked out cold. Bruises all over," he paused waiting for my reaction.

"I don't understand. . . " It was my turn to be confused.

Harry stared at me as if searching my soul. His next words caught me by surprise. "Do you know where you're at right now?"

"In a house?" I said, unsure what he was getting at.

"No I mean what country you're in?"

Suddenly I was more aware of things. He had an accent. Not American. I felt cold. I shook my head slowly indicating my puzzlement. "America?" I ventured helplessly.

Harry looked away for a minute, unsure what to say. Then he looked me straight in the eye."You're in England, Just outside London to be exact."

I was flabbergasted and speechless. "That's impossible." I shook my head repeatedly. I stood up as week shaking my head still. "Impossible."

Harry looked at me with pity. "What was the last thing you remember?"

I told him everything. About Grace Collins, my sister, her mysterious texts, her disappearance, my walk to the square, the shadow in the park. I even tried to explain to him the man who kidnapped me. The whole time he stared down at his hands. I could almost see the gears churning. When I finished he said "You can't tell anyone, at least, not yet. What if those guys come looking for you or find out you told the authorities? Right now you need to stay here, I can- we can-" he paused."we'll figure it out." Then he began pacing. I have to admit I felt bad for him. Some probably mentally unstable girl showing up and he having to deal with her problems.

But for some reason I agreed with him about not calling the authorities. I wasn't sure why or how, but contacting them felt like I was putting off a bat signal to the guys who actually took me. For some reason, I felt as though they could find me faster then the police and until I was "dealt with" I wouldn't be safe.

I didn't realize just how wrong I was. . .